I went into the kitchen and looked in the coffee can only to find it empty. "Really? Empty? Then why did I leave the can on the counter," I said to myself. "I guess I could get out and get me some more," I shrugged. "Or I could just run through somewhere. It'd be quicker and I can stop after work tomorrow and actually get some coffee."
I found myself in the checkout line at the grocery store with a can of coffee crystals and three bags of coffee beans. I sat my stuff on the belt and waited for the cashier to check out the person in front of me. When it was my turn, she quickly scanned my purchases and dropped them into a bag.
"$21.53," the cashier said and I began scanning my debit card through the card reader.
The guy behind me suddenly spazzed out and pulled out a gun, pointing it at the cashier. "Give me all the money in the register!" he shouted.
"What the hell?" I asked, only wanting to finish my transaction.
The cashier shrieked and backed away from the register. "Please don't shoot me," she begged, her eyes tearing up.
"He's not going to shoot you. He just wants money," I said. "Armed robbery, he may just get probation but murder," I made a long whistle.
"Shut up or I'll shoot you," the robber screamed.
"You aren't going to shoot anybody. Open the register and give him some cash so he can get out of here and we can sic the police on him," I said to the cashier.
"No need. We're already here," someone said. "Luckily we had to stop in to grab something."
Two police officers were standing off to the side with guns pointed at the robber. He sighed and slowly raised his hands. Suddenly, a shot rang out and a piercing pain went through my shoulder. I dropped to my knees and grabbed my arm.
"We have a second shooter," one of the officers shouted and took off toward the gunshot. The other officer got his handcuffs and cuffed the robber while radioing in what was happening. "It's just someone thinking he could play hero," the officer came back, another man handcuffed with him.
"I called for an ambulance. It'll be here soon. So what was his problem?"
"He thought he could be a good guy with a gun. Didn't have a good angle and missed."
I groaned loudly and stood up. "He shot me," I screamed. "Why did you shoot when you knew two policemen were here?"
He didn't answer as the ambulance pulled up the grocery store doors. I was loaded into the back of it and taken to the hospital.
Several months later, on another Sunday, I was once again woken up long before I wanted to get up by my dog who, again, had spent at least twenty minutes walking around the room. "Fine," I said, gruffly. "I'll get up." I got out of bed, my dog hopping happily next to me as we walked to the back door. I let him out and bounded into the backyard.
I went into the kitchen and looked in the coffee can only to find that it was empty. Again. "Why don't I throw these empty things away?" I asked myself. "I guess I could run out and get some more. Or I could just through a drive-thru somewhere and buy more coffee on Monday after work."
As I stood in the kitchen, I thought about my last excursion out on a Sunday morning and carefully touched my shoulder where the bullet had been. I shook my head and went to let my dog in. I got in my car and began driving. I drove across town, well out of the way of home and any grocery store and pulled into a drive-thru. I pulled up to the order box and rolled down my window then waited a second or two before someone came on to take my order.
"Welcome to Starbucks. What can I start making you?" the barista asked.
